


Oh, Daddy!

by PepperySkin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And they get kidnapped at some point, Forced Pregnancy, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mpreg, The one where Crowley gets Dean pregnant and everyone is helpful and supportive because yay babies!, Witch Curses, but it's mostly fluffy and cute, except for the sex scenes which are graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperySkin/pseuds/PepperySkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters call Crowley for help with a strong banshee but Crowley ends up pouncing on Dean instead. Curse/Love spell!MPreg!fic with lots of sex, fluff, and some plot. Enjoy! <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mother Dearest, I Feel Like I Could Kill You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a little bit silly and I'm hazy on the details -- Castiel is not a full blown angel but he has more power than what he has now on the show. I have no idea what timeline this would be since Rowena is here too -- oh and she's actually motherly to Crowley.
> 
> So a sort of alternate universe fic where Crowley impregntes Dean because of a spell/curse and they and go through the magical experience of becoming parents together.
> 
> I wrote this all within a couple of days -- sometimes when I write it's like pouring out of me, and this was one of those little silly stories. I love pregnant Dean -- I wish they would do crazy stuff like this on the show sometimes!! Lol.
> 
> Have fun!! ;) This will start (and probably end) semi dramatic but I inted it to be fluffy and mostly adorable, just FYI. <3

Rowena sat in the grand dining room with several witches surrounding her. She smiled at them -- they laughed warmly and drank tea. She was trying so hard to rejoin the convent . . . if only she could win over the head witch.

“Rowena, dear," Her voice sounded smooth like honey, "Your son is a _wonderful_ King of Hell, wouldn’t you say girls? Yes we all think so -- but pray tell me, dear, why hasn’t he found a queen yet?” Rowena laughed at the idea of her son settling down. He would marry someone one day but only kicking and screaming! She would practically have to _force him_ at this point. He loves being a bachelor, that boy . . .

“Oh, Miranda, he wouldn’t! He loves being free and not tied down! You know, he tried the married life when he was a human and it was disastrous if I’m honest!” She laughed again but the head witch looked serious and her followers copied her stern appearance. Rowena's laugh died lamely and she felt very small.

“Well, I _personally_ think it’s a travesty that he hasn’t settled down yet, Rowena . . . and no children yet! Don’t you understand the potential he would have? The sheer _power_ he would have by mating with a human?” Her gaze was unforgiving and Rowena would not look at her directly in the eyes.

“Yes, but it’s a bit more complicated then that, isn’t it?” Rowena asked, not nervous in the slightest. It was her castle -- her son’s castle that is -- and she wouldn’t be frightened here, but Miranda still made her feel . . . inadequate. “I mean he’s a full grown man -- you can’t just _nag_ at him until he does what I ask, otherwise he would have done it ages _ago_ \--”

“Well there are other ways, aren’t there?” Miranda asked, a slight condescension in her voice as she picked at her nails. Rowena paused for a moment.

“You don’t mean -- _a love spell_?” Miranda shrugged, like Rowena came up with the idea herself.

“Well that’s just childish, _rubbish._ I won’t curse my own son -- if I even bloody well can!” Rowena looked offended, her red curly hair flying as she shook her head. Miranda gave her a pitiful smile and took her by the hand. Rowena stayed very still and very quiet.

“Well just _remember_ , Rowena, we’re on your side here, dear! It would be horrible if another demon was able to overthrow him and Crowley had _only_ you to rely on. Just _think_ about it, Rowena, and try and talk with him. It would prove very usual to have a witch in the covenant with a Cambion for a grandchild.” The other witches nodded eagerly and after a tight squeeze, Miranda let go of Rowena.

“Well I suppose . . .” Rowena knew it wouldn’t go over with Crowley well. He was so damn stubborn . . . They made polite pleasantries for a moment longer before saying their goodbyes and filing out of the castle, leaving Rowena by herself to think.

 

She goes to find Crowley (who most likely sitting on his ass in his throne room) and she is furious when she finds that she's right -- he has some young blonde demon thing draped in his lap in her lingerie.

Rowena shrieked something uncivil to the demon girl and sent her away practically running. Crowley sighs as he listens to the same speech he’s heard a thousand times before, his mother already red in the face and bellowing loudly.

“Fergus, _what_ have I told you? You need to stop these -- these _pathetic_ little love affairs--” She held up a pair of underwear on the throne room floor and Crowley honestly didn’t know who they belonged to. “It's high time you _grew up_ and started yourself a family! Go find a wife -- a _human wife_ , and settle down! I'm here now, with you, and I want grandbabies!” She’s dramatic, like always, flailing her arms around wildly and Crowley feels like he wants to strangle her. The throne room always echoes with her voice when she lectures him and he hates it. “Don’t you want someone to be here to take over the throne someday? You need to have children!”

“Mother please! I don't want to hear about this again. I'm happy the way my life is!” He looks at her exasperated.

“What? As the Winchesters’ _bitch_?!” She spits out loud enough that he’s sure the guards heard.

“ _Mother_!” Crowley shushes her quickly. He holds her and she starts ranting and screaming, red in the face.

“You know’wha, love?! I'm so _bloody_ sick of seeing you pine after that -- _that Dean Winchester_ \--” she struggled against him and seemed to be just barely holding back her tears. Crowley looked at her sternly.

“I do NOT--” he began but she put a hand to his face. She's wearing a different perfume than normal and the smell gives him an instant headache.

“DON’T interrupt your mother when she's upset, dear!” She smacks Crowley on the crown, nose flaring, angry and seething. “You have been pining, yes! You have been . . . and your _poor_ mother is worried to death about you, don't you understand? I just want you to be happy!” She begins to cry, seemingly real tears, and Crowley shushes her, hugging her close.

“Mother, _please_! It isn’t reasonable to ask me to just . . . Go off and get married. I have a kingdom to run you know--”

“Exactly! You need family to help you run it! Dear, who are you saving yourself for? How long have you been a king without a queen?” Crowley sighs and feels his pocket vibrate. He checks his phone and sees a text from Dean,

_We need you, meet us in Tacoma._

“Mother, I have to go--” She huffs and looks at Fergus angrily.

“Winchesters?” Her voice practically growls in anger. She sits down on Crowley’s throne and breathes in frustration.

“Yes, yes the _bloody_ Winchesters -- I know what you’re thinking and it’s not that! Mother, I don’t know what it is but I need to help the boys. I _love_ the Winchesters, what can I say? They raise more hell on earth than I do!” he chuckles to lighten the mood but to no avail as Rowena looks murderous. He sighs and says, “They’re like family to me, you know. Before you were back in my life -- they were who I had.” He snaps his fingers and disappears, leaving Rowena feeling miserable with self loathing. Maybe Miranda was right. Maybe there was another way.

  
Sam and Dean are waiting for Crowley by a lake in Tacoma Washington. He appears in front of their car and they start throwing popcorn at him, obviously having already downed a few beers.

“What took you?” Dean looks at him up and down, noting how tired Crowley looked. There were bags under his eyes and his usual crispness seemed off.

“Nothing -- what is it you two idiots need?” He’s still brushing the kernels off his nice suit. He looks particularly annoyed today.

“Not much love tonight, Crowley,” Sam says nonchalantly and takes a sip of his beer. Dean nods in agreement.

“Ugh -- don’t talk to me about love, Moose.” Crowley rolls his eyes and asks the boys again why he’s here. He feels slightly ill and his head is pounding -- he wants to get this over and done with.

“We think we have a banshee but a gold blade didn’t do jack shit -- we think we need something better. Dean told me that during your uh . . .” Sam looks around embarrassed, the boys can never just admit that Dean was a demon for a while and that he ran off with Crowley. It pained Crowley -- those were some of the happiest days of his life. “ . . . _summer of demon love_ , that you had a spell that could kill any fairy-like creature. Is that true? Can you help us out?” Sam finishes awkwardly.

Crowley nods slightly exasperated, mostly frustrated. He looks to Dean with a questioning look in his eye but Dean looks away as soon as they make contact and Crowley doesn't bother trying again.

After Crowley disappeared and reappeared with several key ingredients, the trio made their way to a small cabin on the shore. It would have been beautiful backdrop with the foggy mist and the night sky if not for the mangled body floating slightly in the water -- his head cracked open and his brain partially devoured. They walked inside and set up shop, making a triangle out of blood-like liquid though it felt warm and . . . alive.

“What is this?” Dean asks feeling the paint.

“My blood, why?” Crowley looks to him curiously. Dean grows slightly red and he jumps straight back into his task.

“It’s warm -- it feels weird --”

“There’s magic in it,” he says shortly and continues mixing the ingredients. He can feel his temperature rising, he feels slightly hot to the touch. He wonders if something is affecting him here and he takes a quick look around the room. The boys look ready though so Crowley abandons his search and they take position with golden daggers at their sides in case things go south -- he gave the boys very little to do so they can’t mess it up. Crowley sighs and starts reciting a spell in Latin, one his mother performed for him as a child, while the boys chant their lines, but before they can finish they hear a loud scream and the banshee breaks through the bay window.

It attacks Sam, who is the closest, and he stabs it three times without making a scratch. It's shrieking scream brings Dean and Sam to their knees, and it pulls Sam out of the cabin into the foggy mist outside. Dean shouts to him and moves to run but Crowley takes his arm -- his eyes glowing red and his face emotionless. He's not himself.

“Crowley? This isn’t funny man --” but Crowley said nothing, his eyes boring into Dean’s, and his skin hot to the touch. It was like he was in some sort of feverish trance. He jumped at Dean, missing him narrowly with a swift escape from the young man. Dean almost made it outside but the demon was suddenly in front of him, blocking him, and Dean drew his blade instinctively. Crowley was too fast for him and he easily grabbed Dean’s blade and threw it across the room. He locked eyes with Dean and pushed him down, pouncing on him -- overwhelming him.

“Crowley -- no, _please_ \--” but the demon didn’t seem to hear him. His gaze was dead and expressionlessm while he ripped Dean’s flannel shirt clean off, then scratching at his delicate skin hard enough to leave red marks on his chest and arms. He forces Dean’s arms to lay above him as he straddled the hunter from above, rubbing his cock through his suit pants against Dean’s half naked frame before roughly kissing -- biting down hard on his neck and shoulder.

Dean cries out -- crying out for Sam in the darkness but he hears nothing from outside and after countless screams and hearing his own voice echo throughout the draft building, he gives up struggling and tries to remain calm as Crowley uses him like a play thing. Crowley stripped him quickly and took his time biting at Dean’s ankles when he removed his socks -- grazing his lips down Dean’s leg to the inside of his thigh. Dean shuddered and pushed the demon away but it was no use -- he was too powerful and Dean felt helpless.

Crowley flicked his wrist and Dean suddenly couldn’t move -- his own body feeling extraordinarily heavy. Crowley picked his limbs up and positioned them, spreading him apart, locking his knees to his chest. He shoves two lubed fingers in Dean’s tight asshole and says nothing as the hunter cries out, calling for Crowley to wake up and remember himself. Crowley just plays with him roughly, scissoring and stretching Dean as quickly as he could. He turned Dean around and repositioned him on all fours -- like he was offering his ass for Crowley to take.

The demon sat comfortably on the floor and shoved his fingers back in along with his tongue beside them. He licked unrelentlessly, making Dean scramble to gain purchase on the cold dirty floor, but Crowley pulled his hips back, shoving his face in deeper, and all Dean could do was just try and relax. Dean was forced to feel Crowley inside him -- his beard scratching against his sensitive skin, his tongue exploring the sensitive bundles of nerves around his opening -- and though this wasn't their first time in the bedroom (they had an amazing orgy with triplets that Dean would never forget) it was their first time together-- just the two of them.

They stayed like this until Crowley had Dean shaking -- his pretty tanned body slick and sweating from arousal. The sensation of Crowley's thick, supernaturally long tongue felt overwhelming for Dean who had never been played with in this way, and he growled lowly when Crowley found a particularly good spot. Remembering himself, he begged Crowley to stop but the demon continued hitting Dean’s prostate over and over again -- lighting up every nerve in his lower half and eliciting the dirtiest sounds from the hunter. With tears in his eyes, a powerful orgasm overtook Dean sending waves of pleasure that made his whole body shake in earnest. He half moaned half screamed while Crowley continued to mercilessly pump his fingers inside him before feeling like he couldn't take it anymore, and collapsed slightly to the floor. His face landed harshly on the ground but his ass and legs still remained positioned for Crowley’s pleasure. He looked back to Crowley uncertain, hoping it was over, but Crowley’s eyes still glowed red and he still remained quiet and impassive.

Crowley works at his pants for a moment and then shoves his cock straight up Dean’s ass without warning. Crowley rotates his hips, grinding his monstrously sized cock deep into Dean, and sighs happily when he hears the young man screaming below him after he finds his prostate. He pounds into Dean harshly, his cock practically splitting him in half, and then he grabs at Dean’s plump hips, squeezing hard. All Dean can do is breathe and he whimpers _oh my god_ repeatedly until Crowley reaches around to pinch one of his nipples and he shrieks unexpectedly. Crowley flips him around in one swift motion, positioning Dean flat on his back, before continuing to pound away with Dean’s legs in the air and his cock buried to the hilt. Dean pushes him away -- really feeling the full length of Crowley's double digit cock dig deeper inside him -- but Crowley pays no attention and continues to pump in and out at a rapid, unforgiving pace.

Crowley locks lips with Dean a moment later, his tongue exploring the blond’s mouth roughly, and Dean feels like he can’t breathe. He pushes Crowley away frantically but the demon stays until Dean stops struggling and kisses back. Dean gasps for breath when Crowley finally releases him and his eyes well up with tears.

The demon pushes Dean’s legs harder into his chest and he fucks Dean with everything he has, the sound of harsh slapping echoing and Dean’s cries in the dark room. It’s not long until Dean’s cries out Crowley’s name, another orgasm taking him strongly -- his body visibly shivering when he comes -- his pretty face scrunched up all red. He looks to Crowley with wet eyes, his bow lips trembling, but the demon’s face still remains emotionless -- looking straight through the hunter.

Crowley drags his cock slowly in and out for a moment and Dean feels his ass filling up with cum seconds later. He tries pushing the demon away again, falsely believing him to be finished, but Crowley forces him down on his side, lying behind Dean before shoving his cock back inside his abused asshole. He spent no time warming up and picked up the same relenting pace he had just moments before he came. Dean silently prays, his resolve breaking slightly, but the two fuck spend the whole night fucking wildly.

Toward the end, Dean sees flashes of the real Crowley with an apologetic look on his face. He hears him whimper, cracked and soft, _I’m sorry_  before his eyes flash red again and he's succumbed to whatever evil magic has overtaken him.

Dean's on top riding Crowley with his back to the demon, feeling absolutely wrecked. He feels so tired that he might pass out -- something he did several times already only to be waken up by Crowley pounding his ass from different angles. He hopes that this will be over soon and that Sam is okay wherever he is. Crowley’s red eyes stare intently on Dean as he uses his arms to bounce the hunter up and down roughly on his throbbing cock. Dean can't help crying out every time Crowley hits his tired, oversensitive prostate and tears fall down his handsome face.

He hears a strangled noise from Crowley who stills for a moment, cumming heavily inside Dean’s ass, filling him up once again. Dean wonders if he’ll go again and sighs in relief when Crowley pulls his cock gingerly from him -- cum trailing out along with it. He turns and sees the demon panting heavily below him, his eyes no longer red, his face surprisingly slightly tear stained. Dean looks hazy and feels so sore; Crowley doesn’t look much better. He has a splitting headache from trying to fight the spell and his cock is chafed and raw from fucking. The two stay quiet and catch their breath next to each other.

“So -- I-- uh . . .” Dean begins, breaking the silence. He doesn't know what to say and trails away lamely. Crowley doesn't look at him in the eye.

“I . . . I didn't intend to do that,” the demon insists quietly. He props himself up like Dean is. “and I honestly couldn't stop . . .” Crowley continues quietly. He seems different somehow -- smaller.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean hears himself say distantly. He believes Crowley -- he can see it on the demon’s face that he’s telling the truth -- but then who would do this? A banshee doesn’t have this type of power . . . He hears a snap of the demons fingers and suddenly he's dressed and relatively dry _down there_ , though still aching.

“I'm sorry, Dean . . . really,” the demon looks at him sheepishly, and Dean feels sorry for him too. He didn't ask for this . . . Though Dean's known for a while that the demon has feelings for him.

“I know . . .” He looks at the demon, his eyes so green, so handsome, and Crowley feels like killing himself. He can't believe someone put a curse on him and anger flares inside while he wonders who would -- or could -- do such a thing. He dismisses the idea that it's his mother unless her spell went horribly wrong -- Dean can't get pregnant. It’s not like she would put a love spell on him for just go crazy around men -- she wants grandkids for Christ sake. He will murder, _with passion_ , the person who did this to him and his beloved Dean.

The two look at each other making a silent agreement not to speak about this again and run off to hurriedly find Sam.

They are shocked running out of the cabin to see in the clear daylight that Castiel and Sam standing just find several yards away -- poking at a sort of invisible wall or force field. Dean sees electricity shoot out when Castiel puts a hand to the wall and Sam waves at them enthusiastically. Dean and Crowley come up to Sam and Castiel and when the two touch the barrier it’s gone in an instant.

“We were just trying to figure out a way inside when you two came bustling out,” Castiel explains, looking Dean over and making him flush under his questioning gaze.

“What happened to you two? You guys look terrible,” Sam pats Dean on the back, noting how he jumps and makes a sound like he’s hurt.

“Shut up, Samantha,” Crowley spits out bitterly. “What the hell happened to you? What happened to the bloody banshee?!”

“It wasn’t _a banshee_ \-- it was _the_ banshee. An alpha. Just needed a particular gold sword to kill it, which thankfully Castiel found--”

“And stole!” Castiel adds helpfully, trying to soften the mood. Dean and Crowley look worse for wear and Sam and Castiel look so refreshed and relieved.

“And stole -- and he brought it here and rescued me. The mist was so bad last night we couldn’t find the goddamn cabin -- and then when it cleared this morning there was that force field here we couldn’t get inside,” Sam seemed to be studying Dean, who was leaning against the Impala, slightly out of breath.

“Well whoop-de-fucking-doo, everything turned out -- you're fine, _I'm fine,_ Crowley's fine, the banshee's dead now -- let’s get the hell out of here,” Dean groaned and slid into the passenger seat of the car. Sam was really worried if Dean was letting him drive. Sam smiled and shrugged apologetically and the two brothers left toward the bunker.

Castiel looks to Crowley, who has a pained look on his face as he watches Dean and Sam drive off in the Impala.

“What happened in there? We -- We heard most of it,” he looks to the demon questioningly and kindly -- but Crowley puts a hand to his face and merely sighs exasperated. 

 

 


	2. Say again?

When the brothers go home they are extraordinarily tired, and Sam flops down to the couch with ease. Dean mumbles he’s going to take a shower, and Sam apparently doesn’t hear him as he’s half asleep. “What a night,” Sam calls hazily before drifting off on the couch. No kidding, Dean thinks bitterly before hopping into a nice hot shower.

Dean gets under the hot water and tries to not think about last night but his mind won't let him block it out. Crowley's mother was a witch -- maybe she did this to him. But weren't they on good terms with each other? Dean wonders if she's still living with him. He gasps when he cleans himself as he's sore and raw -- the sting of the soap not helping -- but the hot water feels good and he enjoys it for much longer than he normally does.

When he gets out, they don’t talk about what happened in the cabin and that’s fine by Dean.

He’s sore as hell, his body feels like it's on fire, but he doesn’t have the courage to ask Castiel to heal him. He’s too embarrassed to talk about what happened and honestly doesn’t want Crowley to be blamed either. He gets enough of a bad rap -- this would be solved soon and Crowley will make sure it doesn’t happen again. Dean doesn't want to be alone with Crowley for a while. He thinks to this sorrowful face earlier, after the spell had worn off, and wonders how Crowley is feeling now too. Sam gives Dean space for the rest of the day and excuses himself to his bedroom. He senses that his brother wasn’t in the mood to talk and doesn't press it.

Dean feels his phone vibrate and is surprised to see it's from Crowley.

_I'm sorry, again. I feel terrible._

He reads the text over and over again before replying.

_I know, it's okay. It's not your fault._

Now that he's home, he has peace of mind. He hopes this gives the demon a some too.

  
Crowley barges into his mother’s room and sighs angrily when she’s still asleep.

“Mother -- MOTHER!” He bellows and Rowena wakes up confused.

“Wha’, dear? What is it so early in the mornin’?” She sits up in bed and looks at him strangely -- then a worried look appeared on her face. “Are you alright, Fergus?”

“Mother, someone place a spell on me. I attacked Dean tonight -- I need to know it wasn’t you.” He looks to her with a pained expression, and she darts out of bed to his side.

“Of course not, dear! I would never!” She looks at him closely, examining the scratches on his face from Dean, and Rowena puts a gentle hand caressing him. “I’m your ally, remember that, love!” Crowley suddenly isn’t sure -- he’s not sure if his mother would do this to him, but he smiles slightly and excuses himself to his bedroom. Rowena calls after him and he shouts back that he wants to be alone.

  
Around 4 o'clock the next morning, it started happening.

Dean had stayed in bed for most of the day -- he was abnormally tired given last night’s events. In the middle of the night he feels like he’s sweating uncontrollably all of the sudden. There’s a sharp pain in his stomach -- he clutches at it and cries out for his brother.

“Dean?” Sam calls in the darkness, and then he’s in Dean’s room feeling for a light.

Sam examines his brother carefully -- noting the bite marks and bruises left all around his body -- but not seeing anything that could cause his pain. It subsides anyway, and Dean takes deep measured breaths for the last bit of pain.

“What happened to you tonight?” Sam looks worried, staring at the marks Crowley left behind.

“Well -- nothing Sam. I don’t really want to talk about it. Something had a hold of Crowley -- he -- he wasn’t himself,” Dean said hastily, not meeting Sam’s gaze.

“Okay . . . So did you two fight or . . . Something else?” Sam looked to Dean knowingly -- Dean blushes intensely.

“Something else . . . I _don’t_ want to talk about it,”

“I know -- okay. Well, hopefully you’re just --” Sam coughs, “-- just sore and it’ll go away with a couple of days rest or -- yeah.” Dean looks to Sam suspiciously like his brother might know more than he’s letting on.

“Or?” Sam looks at him like he didn’t hear him. Dean tries again, “Or? It could be . . . ?”

“Don’t worry about it -- just gets some rest,” Sam says again and he grabs Dean’s flask from his nightstand and gives it to him to down. Dean thanks him but wonders what he was thinking.

“Okay, thanks Sammy.” Dean goes to sleep feeling uneasy, and he sleeps restlessly. He dreams about Crowley -- hovering over him -- calling to him. What he doesn’t know is that Crowley has the same dream about Dean.

 

Over the next month, Dean feels himself eating more, and the weirdest foods. Sam tries to push down his suspicions but it’s difficult when Dean  eats pickles with peanut butter and ice cream and doesn't touch a burger for days. He’s never seen Dean eat Kale happily in his life, and yesterday he pratically moaned when he took a bite of Sam’s sandwhich (that he _just_ insulted as dainty).

 

One night, they’re relaxing in the den and Sam hears Dean practically scream as he weighs himself in the bathroom and he realizes he’s gained almost 20 pounds!

“You have a bulge there too --” Sam looks at him seriously, Dean downing nearly a whole fifth of whisky to help his sour mood.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he groans bitterly and slumps at the kitchen table. Sam shuts his laptop to give his brother his attention.

“No I mean -- Dean I would stop drinking so much. You could . . . You could be--” He looks unsure of how to proceed and Dean waits with a sarcastic air about him.

“What, Sammy? Drowning my sorrows in empty calories? I know but it’s whisky!” Dean looks to Sam like he’s an idiot and Sam sighs pointedly.

“No, Dean, did you-- did you have sex with Crowley a month ago?” Dean goes red, looking shocked and embarrassed. Sam can’t help share the feeling and goes red too.

“No-- I -- Why are you asking?!” His voice is raised, he looks like a tomato, and Sam continues to tread carefully.

“Well -- I know you’re a man but . . . did you ever think that maybe there was a way that a magical demon creature could have impregnated you?" Dean stares at him blankly -- Sam continues unpreterubed. "I’ve noticed you’ve gained weight, you’ve been _nesting_ ,” Sam scoffed at the tiny decorations Dean added to the kitchen explaining it gave it a more “homey” vibe -- it looked like something from Martha Stewart and Sam grew greatly suspicious.

“What -- how could I -- how could he have -- say again?!” Dean feels his face completely drain of color, looking ill -- Sam was confirming a fear he had in the back of his mind for the past two weeks.

“I’m just saying it’s possible -- and we still don’t know who tried to do this to you so maybe there was another consequence we weren’t expecti-- what are you doing?” Sam followed Dean into the kitchen. He had pulled out his phone and was calling Crowley frantically -- his hands were shaking and he looked close to tears. “Dean, wait! I could be wrong, we should--” but Sam was cut off by a deep sultry voice on the speakerphone.

“What’s up, lover boy?” Dean heard the demon’s cocky British accent and lost it.

“SHUT UP!” He bellowed, surprising Sam and poor (unexpected) Crowley. “Did you-- did you get me pregnant, you limey bastard?!” Dean paced frantically and realized that he still had the bottle of whisky in his hand. He made an angry noise and threw it in the sink, it shattered on impact.

The room was silent for long moment, except for Dean’s harsh angry breathing.

“. . . . What?” Crowley finally asks, genuinely surprised. “Dean, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you’re pregnant?” He sounds soft and gentle -- there’s no sarcastic tone in his voice, and it makes Dean feel calm knowing that he’s listening -- this is serious and he’s being serious.

“I’ve been -- feeling funny. And gaining weight. And until now I thought I was crazy but here’s Sam telling me that he thinks it might be the same thing and--” Sam interrupts him.

“Wait, you’ve been thinking about this already?” Dean sighs sadly.

“Yes . . . I’ve been having dreams -- like major crazy-ass dreams. Two kids -- a girl and a boy -- and they’re super cute but super fucking strong--” Dean looks like he might cry -- apparently his hormones are acting strangely up too.

“Dean -- I’ve had the same dreams,” Crowley chimes in sounding strained. “I’m coming over, sit tight,” and the phone clicks off suddenly.

Sam looks at Dean seriously, studying his stomach and features, realizing now how much Dean looked pregnant. He had a glow about him -- he was holding himself differently -- and both brothers couldn’t stop staring at the bump at his stomach. Sam’s gaze makes Dean feel vulnerable, and he realizes he’s clutching his stomach the way a pregnant woman does.

Crowley’s at the door almost instantly, he can’t just walk in because the bunker is well protected against all magical creatures, so Sam lets him in and they head toward the study where they hear Dean opening books frantically. When they ask what he’s doing he practically screams at them that he’s looking up lore and history -- and Crowley and Sam look at each other worried.

“Dean . . . I promise I didn’t do this myself,” Crowley speaks carefully. He honestly has no idea how this happened. He questioned his mother all day the next day and she swore up and down that she had nothing to do with it. He’s beginning to think she may have been lying but she’s been so loyal to him since she’s returned -- it’s hard to think of her doing this. There seemed to be something she was hiding -- and he was determined to find out -- but he didn’t want the boys to go after her until he was sure.

“Well who do you think did? This obviously wouldn’t have happened naturally--” Dean sounds angry, he doesn’t look at Crowley. Crowley thinks about his mother again for a split second and pushes the idea away. She wouldn’t.

“I don’t know, Dean, but let’s make sure we’re right first. Call Castiel -- he can do whatever angel mumbo-jumbo to see that we’re right and you’re -- you’re pregnant,” He kicks a book that had been thrown on the floor while Dean takes a moment to respond.

“Why don’t you do it?” Dean looks at him know, his face red, his eyes slightly glossy. Crowley looks to him sadly.

“Because I’m afraid of what will happen if I touch you,” he answers honestly. He looks at Dean square in the eyes and the two don’t break contact until Sam clears his throat awkwardly. Sam calls Castiel and the angel shows within seconds.

Sam asks him to look Dean over and the angel takes hold of Dean’s shoulders before his eyes glow bright blue. Dean feels a current of electricity run through his body, there’s a slight crack, and suddenly the angel is blown 10 ft back and hits a shelf behind him -- sending dozens of books flying.

They all race to his side -- Dean stepping back and giving room for Sam to kneel down.

“Are you alright, Cas?” Dean asks worried. He wonders what could be so powerful to knock an angel back like that -- just from touching him.

“Dean, you’re pregnant,” Castiel says matter of factly. It almost would have been funny if it wasn’t so fucking serious. Dean’s not sure whether to laugh or cry and starts to do both -- a gentle hand from Sam on his shoulder, patting him with support. He takes a breath.

“How?” He asks quietly, completely taken aback.

“Old magic. Very old magic,” Castiel looks at him up at down, his blue eyes still glowing. “I can’t help you, I’m sorry, Dean. That’s not just a magical male pregnancy, which are _much more_ common than you would think--” Dean makes an incoherent sad sound and places his face in his hands, “You have two  _very powerful_ Cambions or Katakos in your . . . . ‘womb.’ This is serious, Dean, we only know of one other creature to exist like this and they are nearly as powerful as arch angels. They’re far along, Dean. You’ll have them by the end of 5 months -- maybe 6 if they stretch it out.” The room goes quiet and Dean doesn’t look Castiel or anyone in the face, his heart running fast. “Who’s the father?” Castiel asks innocently and Crowley turns red, clearing his throat.

“I-- I think I am.” Crowley stammers and looks to the angel to see if he would retaliate against him. Castiel merely shrugs and nods his head approvingly.

“Oh good -- Glad it’s not someone we don’t know,” he patted Crowley on the back and Crowley felt very strongly for the angel in that moment -- Sam too really -- they’ve both been very supportive.

“Dean -- I’ll be here for you . . .” He proclaims sheepishly. He wasn’t sure if Dean would even want him around . . .

“I know -- you always are.” Dean croaked, removing his face from his hands and revealing two red eyes and a tear stained face. “I guess that means we’re having a baby, boys--”

“Two. Two babies,” Castiel corrects, a soft pat to Dean’s shoulder.

“Yes, thank you, Cas,” Dean says exacerbated. “I guess . . . that mean’s we’re having babies,” Dean repeats, all color draining from his face.

Crowley watches the three of them and laughs when Sam starts to tease about being an Uncle. Crowley felt a warmth spread through him. He looked to the three men in the room and felt like this was his little family -- it was comforting. He sighed happily and then the four of them made arrangements to have Castiel check on Dean every week as “doctor,” and Crowley agreed to help out in anyway he could.

 

“I’ll need you around -- especially toward the end,” Dean tells Crowley when the other two shuffle out of the room to give them privacy.

“I’ll be here -- really, Dean -- just tell me how I can help,” Crowley extended out his hand and Dean took it. They’ve been friends for a long time now and this didn’t feel as unnatural as maybe it should. Dean knew Crowley felt strongly for him for quite some time . . . 

“Thanks . . .” Dean didn’t let go of Crowley’s hand and that was fine by Crowley. He leaned in and was rewarded with a real hug. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and Crowley was ecstatic that things were going relatively smoothly.

Maybe mother would get her little family after all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more to come :) I'm not going to lie -- Hell Inc is my priority -- but a girl needs a break sometimes to write something different! Hope you guys enjoyed it so far! <3 <3 <3


	3. I Am Thinking It's A Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . . That the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned. And I have to speculate that God himself did make us into corresponding shapes, like puzzle pieces, from the clay. And true, it may seem like a stretch, but it's thoughts like this that catch my troubled head when you're away when I am missing you to death.
> 
> Such Great Heights  
> The Postal Service

In the month to come, Dean found that Crowley was indeed there for him. At first Dean demanded that he keep hunting with Sam to ‘take his mind off things’ he would say, much to the protest of both Sam and Crowley -- but once his jeans could no longer buckle comfortably and a noticeable bulge appeared, Crowley insisted that he stay in the bunker to be protected. Dean agreed but only after almost getting himself killed by a werewolf and having several locals ask questions about his “odd shaped beer belly”. The large gash on his stomach needed immediate attention and Crowley yelled at him for a good half hour about the safety of their children, keeping under the radar as a pregnant male, his own demonic sanity, and Dean _finally_ caved.

Dean feels like he has to give it to Crowley. For being stuck at home _it could be worse_ , he thinks, and though he wouldn’t admit it, Dean enjoys spending time with the demon. Crowley likes the same types of movies as Dean and he’s not _that bad_ as a cook. Sometimes Hell will call him away -- he is still the King after all and needs to remain in charge -- but Crowley is always quick to return to the bunker (sometimes with a gift; like Dean’s favorite burger from a place 2000 miles from the bunker), and the two of them find themselves spending a lot of time together lately. Dean starts to miss him when he’s not around though he wouldn’t ever say that -- he has _pride,_ he thinks bitterly to himself.

But his hormones have been increasingly unstable, especially lately, and the boys feel like they’re walking on eggshells when Dean is “in a mood.” One sunny afternoon, when Dean is a week shy of being 3 months pregnant, he and Crowley are relaxing in the bunker’s living room flipping through TV channels. The living room has two couches positioned opposite from one another, with two recliners in the middle facing the TV. Dean is lying down on one couch holding his belly while Crowley sits in the recliner nearest to Dean. Dr. Sexy comes on and Dean doesn’t change the channel, entranced by the pretty couple kissing on screen, and Crowley laughs quietly to himself. The demon looks up from his book to make a comment about the lack of ‘quality in the writing’ but the murderous look on Dean’s face makes him stop mid sentence. He coughs awkwardly and returns to his business, giving Dean absolute silence so he can watch his show.

Dean’s been in a foul mood all morning, even Sam knew to stay clear from his brother today. Sam made breakfast that morning and Crowley was shocked that Dean could act so . . . So petulant but then quickly realized why Dean threw a fit.

  
Dean threw his food in the garbage after taking one bite.

“Hey dude--” Sam started at first but Dean’s face got bright red so fast that the other men just backed down waiting for the rant.

“You _KNOW_ that avocado has been making me sick! Why’d you use them?!” Dean’s voice carried loudly in the kitchen. Sam wanted to tell him _I’m right here, asshole!_ but didn’t -- he was good at keeping his cool. Crowley patted Dean on the back but he jerked away with a sort of frustrated growl.

“I was just trying to _help_! I’m sorry!” Sam looked sincere and Dean felt a little bad about yelling but he couldn’t control himself. Didn’t his brother notice he had thrown up for hours the day before yesterday after eating Mexican food with avocados?! The smell of eggs didn’t help him either. “Dean, you were craving it just the other day! I didn’t realize--” but Dean stormed off to the bathroom. After a few moments, Sam and Crowley heard the unmistakable sound of Dean violently vomiting.

It was a rough time for everyone in the bunker. Sam and Dean had never been around a pregnant woman for long periods of time and really were unprepared for what a real pregnancy would be like. Dean had no idea how to handle the flooding of emotions he felt -- one minute he’s feeling happy to the point of crying because he saw a cute puppy on the web and the next moment he’s in a bloody rampage and blows up at anyone who is near him. He had morning, afternoon, and evening sickness (because lucky Dean was sick all the fucking time) and it just made him tired and more irritable. How is this a thing? How do pregnant woman not kill everyone in their vicinity?!

“We hope you don’t really feel that way, love,” Crowley calls from outside the door and Dean realizes he must have been yelling to himself in the bathroom. He had tears running down his face -- throwing up _sucked_ , and he felt like shit. He didn’t mean to take it out on Crowley or Sam but being pregnant was miserable. No sleep and almost everything he eats he throws up -- _little shits_ , he thinks when he looks at his stomach.

Afterwards, with a red, tear stained face, Dean sulks out of the bathroom trying to avoid Sam and Crowley’s gaze, opting to lay down on the couch in the living room. Crowley follows him quietly, and Sam makes tea and leaves it on the coffee table, choosing to stay clear of Dean for the rest of the day.

  
So Crowley’s just content with just being present for Dean and he’s not going to push. Maybe if he’s available for Dean -- Maybe at some point they can try to be more than just -- just friends having kids together. Maybe they can try dating. . . but Crowley just pushes the idea out of his head. He hates it when he gets his own hopes up -- Dean hasn’t had any interest even  _looking_ at the demon and is certainly not interested in having a relationship with _him,_ he thinks sadly.

Crowley’s been so careful lately too! He makes sure when he touches Dean that it’s soft and gentle, and he gives the young man space whenever he asks. He tries to plan activities for them to do to ensure that Dean’s not bored. And when he’s asleep, the demon is either preparing the babies’ rooms so Dean doesn’t have to worry about it or watching over the young man while he sleeps. This is going against his nature but he tries so hard to be _good_  and it comes easily when it involves Dean.

Crowley’s never quite sure if Dean likes having him around but lately Dean seems less irritable when the demon’s there (according to Sam at least) and Crowley feels happy knowing he at least provides a little bit of company (maybe even security) for his soon to be . . . partner? No no -- they never dated . . . His . . . His . . . Baby daddy? Hmm . . .

Crowley ponders and makes himself a drink at the bar. He hears Dean huff for a third time in the past 20 minutes and sighs himself. He sees Dean adjusting _once again_ on the leather couch, groaning and grumbling to himself. Crowley raises his eyes to look at him sternly. This frustrated him more than anything about their arrangement. Dean never asked him for anything _, little stubborn prat_. He could be bleeding profusely from a knife wound and he would tell Crowley to _shut up_ and _mind his own damn business_ while he bled out. Crowley sets his drink down on the coffee table next to him and clears his throat pointedly. Dean glares at him from under his blanket.

“Anything I can help with, pet?” Crowley waits for Dean to respond but he’s silent. He looks at Crowley strangely before jerking his head back to the TV, blushing. Crowley eyes him curiously.

“N-no. Nothing, thanks.” Crowley sits back down at his chair and continues to stare at Dean, waiting for more of an answer. Dean acts like he can’t see Crowley tapping his fingers impatiently.

“Dean, what do you need?” This happens so frequently and it’s the only real time Crowley feels frustrated with Dean. The other day Dean wanted a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich but he was too embarrassed to ask Crowley to make it for him. It dragged on for two hours while he huffed and heaved -- looking sullen and depressed, Crowley trying every 15 minutes to see what he could do. Dean said later that it was because he was embarrassed about it being “Sam's type of food” and that he hated being too tired to make it himself. Crowley thinks he needs to stop trying to do everything himself anyway and told Dean he was acting ridiculous.

Dean huffs again impatiently, fidgeting slightly under the blanket. “Do you want something to eat? Something to do?” Dean ignores him, his eyes fixed on the TV. Crowley’s silent only for a moment. “Something to fuck?” That gets his attention and the demon smiles. Dean makes an annoyed sound and Crowley thinks he’s hit the sore spot.

“Shut up, dude, _no_ ,” Dean’s flush only seems to be deepening and Crowley wonders when Dean jerked himself off last. Dean’s weird about his body lately -- he _refuses_ to buy maternity clothes and lately wears his old pants just open and undone -- his stretched out shirts not quite covering his belly and his flannels becoming too small to really close comfortably. Crowley thinks it looks uncomfortable but doesn’t say anything. Dean doesn’t seem too interested in making this easy for himself.

“It doesn’t have to be me, you know,” the demon says quickly and Dean gives him a surprised look. “It can be anyone. I’ll give you anyone you want, baby” Crowley looks to Dean like he’s genuinely trying to help and Dean shakes his head embarrassed.  
  
“I don’t -- I don’t want any-- it’s not that,” he begins, he doesn’t look at Crowley while he talks. “It’s . . . Maybe we should call Castiel,” Crowley gets up immediately.

“Why?! Does it hurt?” He’s on Dean so fast, surprising the young man as his tender hands move quickly under the blanket to touch his pregnant belly. Dean instantly feels better -- but there’s a feeling -- an intense feeling _down there_ and he can’t bring himself to describe it to Crowley.

“Not exactly . . . I don’t -- I need . . .” He trails away lamely, feeling so exposed and vulnerable. It was silly -- this is Crowley -- _the father of my children_ Dean thinks to himself, who has expressed his _undying_ wish to be there for Dean -- but he can’t bring himself to ask for . . . _this_. He looks hot to the touch and Crowley feels his forehead; it's burning up like he has a fever.

“Dean you're flushed. What's wrong?”

“It . . . Ah . . . It’s --” Dean shifts again, looking uncomfortable. Dean didn’t finish his answer but threw his blanket completely off and placed Crowley’s hand on his inner thigh -- it felt blazingly hot. Without warning Crowley quickly pushed Dean’s jeans down and Dean didn’t even protest. The intense feeling amplified when Crowley reached inside his briefs and touched at his opening making his whole body shiver. Dean couldn't help but groan at the feeling, spreading his legs for better access.

Dean reaches down and pushes his underwear off while Crowley watches hungrily. The demon had a feeling he knew what was going on. There are so many variations of this curse and he wasn't quite sure which one Dean had until now. _An oldie but a goodie_ , Crowley thinks, and he pushes Dean’s legs up to his chest. He knew Dean’s prostate was swelling because he hadn’t jerked himself off. It was part of the curse, which was old magic -- very old magic indeed. In old times, when a witch would cast this curse upon a man, he would shun himself away like a hermit -- obviously embarrassed at the idea of anyone seeing them pregnant. When “the swelling” would occur, most men would die from the insanity of not being able to please themselves the way they needed -- it required a partner. Usually the partner who impregnated them.

Not that Crowley had _hoped_  that this was the strain of curse Dean had but he certainly wasn’t _crying_ over it . . . He told Dean to hold his legs and he prodded at Dean’s hole. Dean felt so vulnerable but the overwhelming sensation of carnal need overcame his embarrassment and Crowley heard a beautiful little whisper of “ _please_ ” escape the blond’s lips before he pushed in.

Crowley shoved two of his fingers inside without hesitation and while Dean bucked at first, the moan that left his lips told Crowley this is what he needed. Dean wasn’t sure how Crowley used lube without him seeing but as he gently played with Dean, the young man realized the slick was coming from himself.

“How--Why does it . . . Why is it so painful?” He finally asks when Crowley brushes his fingers over his enlarged prostate. Crowley could feel his sweet spot easily -- it was _huge_. It certainly seemed painful, especially left untreated . . .

“I’ve heard different theories . . .” The demon explained so nonchalantly that they could have been discussing the weather. Crowley nudged his fingers in further and Dean squirmed to give him a better angle. It felt immensely better -- he wondered if it would feel good with anyone but quickly pushed the thought away. It felt good with _Crowley_ \-- he can’t imagine anyone else doing this to him right now.

“I think,” the demon continued, “that because your anatomy isn’t built for this . . . ” he sounded breathy, like he was enjoying this more than he was trying to let on. Dean was surprised but he didn’t mind so much. “That there’s not a lot of room in here and -- I’ve heard this is part of the curse -- that you have to be milked.” He pushed in and down on Dean’s prostate hard and Dean’s cock twitched, leaking liberally. Dean groaned lowly and Crowley felt his own cock twitch with excitement.

“That-- doesn’t make _any sense_ ,” Dean bucked again when Crowley added a third finger, but relaxed instantly when the demon hit that good spot again. He spread his legs wider and held them tighter to his chest while Crowley picked up the pace and fucked his strong fingers in and out of Dean’s tight little hole. Dean squirmed when the demon shoved his hand in deep, trying to grab more at Dean’s prostate inside, but Crowley held him down gently.

“Shhh, just let me make you feel better, darling. Let me know if something hurts,” Crowley felt his cock throbbing for attention and ignored it -- he wanted to make it good for Dean. He had four fingers in him, his thumb the only digit free. He experimented slowly with his fingers, watching Dean’s expression for any hints of what felt the best, and groaned happily when Dean got more into it -- when he found the best angle to fuck himself back on Crowley’s hand. Dean threw one leg over the back of the couch and Crowley held on to his other with his free hand while Dean thrived and moaned beneath the demon. His nipples stood erect and Crowley couldn’t help but lean down with his mouth and bite it softly -- Dean gasped.

“Ah! So sensitive -- don't -- leave them alone.” He looked at Crowley finally, his green eyes blurry with tears from the overwhelming feeling of being played with like this. Crowley nodded -- a strange _loving_ look on his face, making Dean feel butterflies in his pregnant belly. Crowley took Dean’s cock in his other hand and stroked slowly in time with his fingers, picking up the pace when Dean tried to rock his hips in tandem.

Dean began chanting _oh my god_ with sweat on his brow when Crowley fucked him in earnest with his hands. He didn't last long -- he came quickly spilling his seed mostly on his stomach, the cum dripping down onto the couch. He looked spent and tired, but sighed in angry frustration when he caught his breath and Crowley became worried that he did something wrong.

“What’s wr--” but before he could ask, Dean propped himself up awkwardly and pushing Crowley away. He stretched uncomfortably and put his own hand into his asshole, groaning wildly at the feeling -- Crowley watched as Dean fucked himself on his own hand-- and he hoped, and waited patiently.

“It . . . It wasn’t enough.” Dean finally croaked out, sounding annoyed. He bets Crowley is loving this but when he looks at the demon sternly, he just sees warmth and concern in his eyes -- he feels a little bit at ease and feels himself flush under the demon’s gaze. “Sit down,” he commands and Crowley obeys quickly, sitting on the couch next to him. Dean doesn’t say anything but takes off the rest of his clothes while Crowley watches him closely. He dmiring the little bit of chub that gives Dean such nice curves since he's been pregnant. Dean climbs on top of the demon slowly, looking to him unsure for a moment and then with more confidence at Crowley’s own excitement, undoing his pants, pulling his cock out free. He strokes it a couple of times before sitting himself down on Crowley’s dick, taking the whole thing in inch by inch slowly, his face squinching at the intrusion of something so large entering his tight hole. Crowley’s ecstatic that Dean is using him like this and does his best just to let Dean adjust himself until he’s ready for Crowley to thrust. Crowley leans back against the couch, giving Dean leverage to hold on to the top of the couch and fully seat himself comfortably. They both let out a sigh like they scratched an itch they couldn’t reach, and slowly Dean slid up and down Crowley’s monsterous dick. The demon watched in ecstasy as Dean moaned, feeling Crowley’s cock brushing against his prostate, his hips starting to rock back and forth faster, trying to find a good rhythm.

It wasn’t long before Dean found the right angle and bounced himself up and down to his heart's content -- his eyes shut tight and his face beat red as he rode the demon to another orgasm. Crowley let him too -- he didn’t ask anything of Dean. He enjoyed just being here with him -- it wasn’t about his need to get off. He let Dean fuck himself on his cock until he came screaming, pumping white hot liquid out onto Crowley’s stomach and chest. Panting, he looks down and sees Crowley smiling at him -- no malice -- not teasing, just happy to be there.

Dean makes a frustrated noise and pushes forward, locking lips with the demon and their tongues intertwining. He breaks to look at Crowley sternly, and the demon can’t help but laugh.

“Why are you so cranky?” He asks sweetly, he thrusts up into Dean slightly and enjoys the soft _oh_ that escapes.

“I don’t want to have to _ask_ you to fuck me already -- _you should just know_!” Dean spits out angrily, and Crowley, frustrated and fed up with this _spoiled brat_ , picks Dean up like he’s nothing and pushes him over the edge of the couch -- Dean’s feet dangling to the ground. He lines up, pushes in, and fucks Dean _raw_ , thinking _this is what you get when you’re a prat_ as Dean screams his name, pushing himself back to meet Crowley’s harsh thrusts.

He thinks he’s going to lose it when Dean readjusts with a leg up to his chest, giving Crowley a better angle to go in deeper. Dean grabs at Crowley’s hand and they intertwine, and with one last moan the blond comes again, shaking under Crowley. His ass feels so tight when he comes, the walls contracting around Crowley's thick cock, and the sight of Dean pregnant,  _calling his name_ , makes the demon cum harder than he ever has. He spills his load inside Dean buried to the hilt, and groans happily at the whisper of _oh yeah_ that Dean calls from beneath him.

They take a minute before they part, Crowley kissing Dean’s back and shoulders, then it’s over as soon as it began -- Crowley leaving Dean a hot mess on the couch while he sits near his head, stroking his face.

“You make me so mad,” Dean finally says, but he sounds contrary; he sounds like he’s about to laugh.

“Why, darling? What did I do to make you so mad this time?” Crowley feels so good he feels high. His eyes are glazed and he feels like he could nap.

“I’m pregnant, you bastard. Everything’s your fault right now --” Dean teases. He seems so much more relaxed now and Crowley laughs warmly.

“I know, dear.” Crowley sighs happily. He would never tell his mother but -- she was right. This is the something that has been missing from his life -- he looks to Dean fondly and the hunter stares back at him, glossy eyed.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You think Sam heard us?” The thought crossed his mind earlier when Dean was screaming for God.

“Baby, I think Castiel heard us.” Crowley picks up the remote and flips through the channels -- not bothering to fix himself up (his cock lazily hanging out, softened now, his shirt and tie a mess from Dean’s grabbing and pulling) -- and Dean was still naked and sweating, cum dripping out of his ass, laying awkwardly half off the couch in the same position Crowley left him in. “I don’t think he minds, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Dean doesn’t say anything but scoots closer, putting his head in Crowley’s lap.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” He says after a beat. Crowley’s unsure of what he means.

“This?” Crowley gestures to Dean’s stomach -- his ever increasingly pregnant stomach.

“No-- well yeah but no -- I mean . . . This . . .” He looks at Crowley -- hoping he will understand. It’s hard to talk -- Dean’s never been much of expressing his feelings. “That it . . . That it isn’t weird . . . You know?”

Crowley isn’t sure what to say for a moment and looks to Dean blank faced. He’s been in love with the hunter for over a year now, maybe two if he’s being completely honest with himself. Of course it doesn’t feel weird to him -- he’s been secretly praying for this for a while now. But to Dean -- who wanted nothing to do with him months before this -- probably isn’t sure why it suddenly feels like their lives are fitting together like puzzle pieces. Two seemingly random pieces -- getting together in just the right way to paint a better, beautiful picture.

“Well . . . I'm thinking it's a sign . . .” Crowley starts, unsure of how to phrase his feelings without sounding like he was hormonal himself. “Sometimes I think life gives you opportunities to . . . _connect_ with someone you wouldn’t normally. Sometimes these can be the best friendships -- working around your differences makes you cherish the similarities -- I think,” it’s hard to look at Dean in the eyes, he can feel his own tearing up so he looks at Dean’s belly. “I think you’ve been my best friend for a while now, Dean. It’s not that weird to me,” he leans down to give Dean a kiss and the hunter closes his eyes and kisses back. Crowley thinks his heart might burst when they hear a groan come from just outside the door.

“ _Guys_! CLOTHES! _Please_! Other people live here too!!” And that’s the only thing Sam says about seeing Dean sprawled out on the couch naked with his head in Crowley’s lap, resting comfortably against the demon’s cock.

Dean doesn't say it to Sam but he will always remember that day and think how lucky he is to have a brother who accepts him and his . . . family? Are they a family?

He looks to Crowley questioningly but the demon doesn't pay him any mind -- hazy from their fucking -- just stroking Dean while he watched TV. Dean isn't sure if they are but he thinks this isn't too bad -- not too bad at all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt very sappy with this last chapter and it was fun. :) I have a feeling there are lots of typos with this one -- and if there are I'm sorry! I never have someone read my stuff before I post it -- if anyone ever wants to be a beta feel free to message me on tumblr! Vulcanpride.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for the kudos/comments! They always make me smile!! <3 <3 <3


	4. Lucky I'm In Love With My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluff toward the end of the pregnancy <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deliberately took a scene from 30 Rock and I'm sorry! I just love the idea of Dean having a hard time with his emotions -- like an Elizabeth Lemon that I know and love! I imagined the scene where Liz can't tell Criss that she loves him back. So, yeah there's that, I'm a thief lol -- but I never said this would be a super serious fic now did I???
> 
> Hells inc is taking a while to update because the next few chapters are big plot chapters and I'm just taking forever!! Sorry!! I'm so excited for the next few chapters though -- lets get that show on the road already!! Ugh T_T I need to set aside more time to write.
> 
> And as for this fic -- it’s only going to be a few more chapters. I have another chapter almost completed at the moment and I foresee like two more chapters after that (I think). :)

 

The next almost seven months were excruciating.

Dean was practically in _tears_ when he asked Castiel, “Why haven’t they vacated the building yet, man?!”

To which a very solemn Castiel replied,

“They seem to . . . like it in there, from what I can gather.” He gives Dean a genuine hug, awkwardly trying to avoid smushing his very large stomach, Dean staring blankly at the wall trying to think of a way to kill himself without hurting the children.

Apparently the _little fuckers_ liked it so much in Dean’s over stretched belly, that they stayed an extra two months just for _shits and kicks_ , and there was no end in sight. Castiel came daily now to check up on Dean and each day he would declare sadly ‘ _they need more time_ ’, much to the dismay of everyone in the bunker. If Dean could be moody without the two little parasitic jerks around, then pregnancy was an _absolute_ nightmare.

Dean was depressed toward the end of his pregnancy, sulking around the bunker demanding that Crowley follow him around and soothe him, but this wallowing and self pity soon turned to frustration and anger. Sam and Crowley never knew what was going to set him off these days and even Crowley, the most patient in the group, was finding that his patience wore thin these days. He and Sam refused to fight with Dean opting to leave the room when he started throwing a fit.

Crowley had been very careful around Dean, he didn’t want to pressure the young man into committing to a relationship but lately with Dean’s attitude it just felt like Crowley was there as a tool for the pregnant man and it wasn’t doing much for the demon’s self esteem. Crowley said Dean could use him whenever he pleased, and he meant it, but he wished Dean to be more . . . romantic with him. Crowley may be the King of Hell but he deserved to be loved -- at least he told himself this when Dean was particularly cold and grouchy.

There were some occasions when Dean was sweet and kind, telling Crowley his feelings and how _secure_ he felt with the demon, how _loved_ he felt with the demon, but he still hadn’t declared Crowley his _partner_ (boyfriend, lover, whatever), and he certainly hasn’t told Crowley that he loved him back.

Well not _exactly_ anyway.

About a month ago…

_“I love you,” Crowley whispered above Dean, his cock softening from climax, pulling cum out of Dean’s tight asshole as it leaves him.  
“You too,” he whispers back, a stupid grin on his face. He pulls the demon in for a kiss and when they part he’s asleep within minutes._

And then a week ago…

_“I love you, Dean,” Crowley whispers into Dean’s ear while he's sitting in Crowley’s lap watching TV.  
He kisses the demon softly, and when their lips part he says with determination, “I’m going to order Thai food.”_

Or even this bloody morning!

_Crowley’s making breakfast when Dean walks into the kitchen hazily, his fuzzy robe half undone and his pajamas too small for his giant protruding stomach._

_“Morning, Sweetheart,”_

_“Hey,” was Dean’s reply. A small pang of disappointment struck in Crowley’s stomach. He tries again, hoping Dean will reciprocate more._

_“Love you!” He says sickeningly sweet, without sarcasm, without malice, and boldly wrapping his arms around Dean from behind. Dean’s pouring himself orange juice, half listening, half looking at the newspaper on the table, Crowley swears he hears him sigh._

_“Scooby Doo!” Dean says, in the same sing song voice Crowley used to express his affirmation._

So things weren’t going as great as the demon planned . . . _but at least they have sex almost every other day_ , the demon assures himself desperately.

The few minutes when Dean was finally exhausted and spent after sex, after he came to Crowley _needing_ him and Crowley happily obliged -- fucking him until he was practically passed out in his arms -- Crowley could then hold him close and relish in the warmth of Dean and his babies. This was his favorite part of “helping out” while Dean was pregnant and Crowley was grateful that the hunter wasn't shy about asking for sex anymore. Not only was he not shy but he just about kicked Sam out of the room last week before climbing on top of Crowley and sinking down on his thick cock with a sigh of relief.

Not that Crowley is complaining really. Honestly he can’t imagine his life being better at the moment -- King of Hell, Dean’s having his babies, _they’re having sex regularly_ , -- he just wants . . . A little more. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? To be officially part of the family?

Dean sighs while sitting in the kitchen with Crowley, waiting for breakfast to be done. He looks down at his stomach with disappointment, greatly missing his washboard abs (and his ability to sit down and get up without help or hurting his back). Initially the farther along he grew, the more he talked to the babies -- mostly sweet and caring -- but right now he felt like screaming at them. He whispers but loudly -- not caring that Crowley can hear him.

“ _Get out of me you goddamn little motherfucking--_ ”

“Dean,” Crowley warns slightly exasperated, setting down a hot cup of herbal tea in front of him. Dean stares at it with disdain. No coffee while he’s pregnant -- no drinking -- Dean scoffs and mumbles how “ _if they’re so fucking powerful then I should be able to have a beer --_ ” but Crowley shushes him.

“They _can_ hear you. Be nice to them. They could come running out you know, and God knows it’ll be a difficult birth as it is.” Crowley’s calm demeanor has been surprising but not unwelcome in the bunker. He seems to calm Dean down easily now, just by being patient and kind, and not giving into Dean’s dramatic tendencies. He fixes up two plates of food from the breakfast that he’s just made and sets them at the table -- Sam rushes in only seconds later looking for the source of the food he smelled, laughing when he overhears the last bit of their conversation.

“Well I know which dad will be taken care of in his old age and which will be sent to the nursing home --” The younger Winchester added salsa to his food while he talked, giving Dean a devious grin. Sam had been very supportive throughout, even mentioning to Dean how excited he was to be an uncle, but he couldn’t help tease Dean at every opportunity possible at the same time. Dean glared at him in response -- he couldn’t wait to get the little fuckers out. Sam would be eating out of the palm of their little hands in no time and _then we’ll see who’s laughing_ , Dean thinks bitterly. Crowley coughs somewhat nervously, and Dean’s attention is immediately back to him.

“We haven’t discussed that,” Crowley says quietly, looking hopefully at Dean, who stares at him completely dumbfounded.

“About who’s going to a nursing home?” Dean asks confused, still hazy from sleep. He’s so tired and sick all the time . . . he spent all morning throwing up and all afternoon taking a nap. Crowley sighs annoyed at having to explain himself but gingerly reaches over and brushes an eyelash off Dean’s cheek -- who doesn’t even flinch at the intimate act. Sam briefly wonders when the two of them became an old married couple when just a few months ago Dean wanted nothing to do with the demon.

“No, _Sweetheart_ ,” Crowley sounds as if he's struggling not to call Dean _dense,_ but only for a moment. He sighs and tries again. “Am I dad? Are you dad? How is this arrangement going to work?” Crowley looks to Dean seriously, like he’s been thinking about this for a while.

“Oh!” Dean utters completely surprised, but slightly touched. He hadn’t really thought about this. Not recently anyway -- he just assumed it would work out when the kids arrived. Who cares? He could be dad, mom, grandma for all he cares -- Crowley might just be Crowley after all, depending on how their -- arrangement will work. _Whatever feels comfortable to the kids_ , Dean thinks, _whatever feels comfortable to me_.

“I just -- I wasn’t sure. I thought whatever kind of . . . Happened. I might be dad, you might be daddy--” Crowley smiled deviously at him, both drifting to last night’s events after Dean finally stopped with his daily vomiting session and the two of them spent time making Dean . . . Feel better. Dean felt himself blush. “Or maybe that won’t work out because you can’t be appropriate for one second--” Dean reaches over like he’s going to pinch Crowley but Sam clears his throat loudly and stalks back for more food. Crowley takes the opportunity to look at Dean seriously again, his voice quiet.

“Dean, I’m worried the children will be from a -- a broken home.” Crowley says quickly not looking entirely confident. Dean’s completely taken aback -- the past 7 months have been nothing but _I will be here for you always_ and other mushy things Dean can’t think about without feeling embarrassed.

“Well it’s not broken -- just -- different.” Dean’s handsome face looks serious, Crowley feels a swell of warmth after studying his face, loving that Dean treats this seriously -- he doesn't tease him or make light of his fears. For all the shit Dean gives Crowley, he does care. Watching his lover taking what he said into consideration, thinking about his needs, gives Crowley a breath of fresh air.

Crowley sighs again, but this time feeling much better.

“Dean I know. We have a great family here,” he looks to Sam and smiles, who already finished his second plate over the sink to give them more privacy and was going back for thirds, acting as if he can't hear the two of them talk. Crowley made a mental note that Dean hadn’t touched his food. “I just think -- I mean maybe if mommy and daddy just tried for a while --” He looked at Dean hopeful, his brown eyes bright. Dean isn’t sure what to say.

“Well if you’re asking me out on a date it’s a little late, Crowley -- some asshole already knocked me up.” Dean looks to the demon straight faced, making his brother and Crowley laugh. “What are you asking exactly? You want to get married?” There’s a small beat of silence where Dean and Crowley look into each other’s eyes contemplating, both very still, very serious. Then the two bust up laughing suddenly -- like the very idea would be ludicrous -- so loudly that Sam sighs in annoyance behind them.

Then Dean looks to Crowley seriously, like he’s really asking (though not objecting) and Crowley feels much better. If Dean were asking -- he really cared. He doesn’t take commitment lightly -- look at his relationship to his family!

“No, not per se. . . I just -- I want the title I suppose.” He fidgets awkwardly, and Dean, seeing that Crowley’s really struggling with this, feels touched. “I just think if we tried to be a -- _a couple_ \-- not just fuck buddies --” Sam coughs loudly, chokes slightly on a piece of food, and leaves the room abruptly.  _I wondered how long he would last_ , Dean thinks, sighing at the disruption. Crowley can't help but look at him fondly, loving the way his brow furrows when someone pisses him off.

“I’d like to be considered your partner,” he tries again now that Sam is out of the room. Dean is quiet, looking to Crowley like he’s amused, and thinking. The demon waits a moment for him to speak but he doesn’t, adding in a low voice, “I can be very sweet you know.” He looks at Dean with puppy dog eyes, fishing for a compliment, acknowledgement -- anything.

Dean thinks about last night -- Crowley staying by his side with a cool towel as Dean throws his dinner up in the toilet for nearly two hours before gingerly putting a very miserable Dean to bed (and “to bed” he means . . . ). He turns red at the memory.

“I haven't seen that side of you,” Dean says sarcastically and Crowley scoffs muttering dick under his breath. Dean laughs warmly and takes a sip of tea, enjoying the demon squirming beside him asking for acceptance and love. He would get it -- at a price -- Dean felt allowed to tease him as much as he wanted (after all he knocked Dean up in the first place!) “I’d be willing to have you show me.” Dean pats his stomach as he feels one of the babies kick, and quickly grabs Crowley’s hand, putting it to the source. The poor bastard still hadn’t felt them kick -- the little devils already knew how to piss off their dads (Dean was sure they were doing it on purpose). They wait a moment but they stopped and Crowley sighs exasperated, once again.

“ _This is why your father wants you out of there you little shits_ \--” The demon spits out suddenly, venomously, and Dean’s laughter can be heard from all the way upstairs.

 

Sam shakes his head amused at hearing his brother happy, shutting the door to drown out the rampant sex that was surely to follow the lovers' heartwarming conversation. He puts music on and texts Castiel back.

_Yeah I’d say they’re doing good. Thanks for checking in, Cas._

Castiel's reply is quick -- he's really getting into using his new phone.

_We still on for this weekend?_

Sam laughs mischievously, pulling a list out of his pocket that he had been keeping around for the past couple of weeks. He checks it over, mumbling to himself as he reads it. "Balloons still need to be picked up, caterer is good to go, Charlie should have the games ready . . ." He hears a crash come from the kitchen and a loud moan from Dean -- within seconds the unmistakable sound of Dean getting fucked floods his ears. He turns his music up -- _way_ up.

_Oh hell yes! Dean's going to hate it. Everything should be ready. This is gonna be one hell of a baby shower._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 <3 Please comment/give kudos! Thanks! :) -- http://vulcanpride.tumblr.com


	5. It's My Party and I Can Cry If I Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Very Supernatural Baby Shower!

When the weekend came, Crowley demanded that Dean go buy a real maternity outfit as he looked utterly ridiculous. Forced to wear very stretchy sweat pants that still wouldn’t cover his tummy and a tshirt that was stretched so tight it might rip if Dean moved the wrong way, Crowley claimed he couldn’t take it anymore. Dean argued the whole way Crowley dragged him to the store, “They’re almost here, why buy new clothes?!” but Crowley would have none of it. Only 30 minutes later they leave with a medium sized bag of new clothes -- Crowley even forces Dean to put on an outfit in the store to wear home.

Dean was silent on the drive at first, but before stepping into the bunker he sheepishly apologized to Crowley, slightly red in the face. Crowley sighed, sounding annoyed but not mad.

“It’s alright, Love. I just wish you would have let me do this sooner.” Crowley examined Dean for a moment, wondering why he was so damn stubborn. And why about this of all things?

“I just --” Dean looked away, his voice was quiet, “I just didn’t want to wear girl clothes.” Crowley’s expression softened. Dean swears he sees a flash of a smile on the demon’s face.

“Okay baby, whatever you say. It’s not a big deal,” and he kisses Dean sweetly on the lips -- the young man reciprocates, glad Crowley doesn’t pry further. Crowley made him feel so good . . .

  
When they enter the bunker Dean is caught off guard (though not unarmed) at a full room of guests and his closest friends yelling SURPRISE!

Dean almost slices Sam’s throat in surprise the moment he walks in the door -- drawing a blade hidden somewhere secret (even Crowley doesn’t know where he pulled it from) but luckily he’s slow while carrying two children in his stomach and Sam is able to grab his arms. After he sees that there is no danger he smiles embarrassed and puts away his knife, ignoring the little laughter he hears from the room as he bearhugs his brother (as much as possible with his enormous belly).

Within minutes the room is a mixture of laughter from Dean’s reaction and people chatting with each other. Before Dean had a chance to give Sam a hard time about the baby shower, a line of people and monsters formed, all of them coming up to Dean and giving their congratulations. Several individuals Dean didn’t know personally but he knew to be friends of Crowley’s, and one very intense witch who Dean assumed was Rowena’s gal pal asked to touch his stomach, which Dean politely declined. Sam and Crowley disappeared rather quickly into the crowd, mingling and making small talk with guests, and Dean can’t help but feel put under the spotlight with everyone there, suddenly alone and fending for himself.

Trying not to make eye contact with anyone while stabbing a mini hot dog on his plate, Dean hears a cough from behind him and is ecstatic to see Charlie! He hugs her, kissing her on the cheek, and he asks her to stay close so they can catch up. She asks Dean if she can feel his stomach and Dean obliges happily. He places her hands on a small bump, which she can feel one of the twins’ foot sticking up into Dean’s gut (little jerk!). Charlie actually squeals when she feels a kick and Dean seems to glow with the prospect of his little ones growing up with an Auntie Charlie. He hopes she’ll come around more often -- even when she makes a joke about how she’s not a good babysitter.

Dean enjoys himself for a good hour before he really starts to tire. He’s still listening to Charlie talk about her latest computer passion project (“hacking, Charlie, hacking and stealing is what that’s called”) when Rowena literally pushes Charlie aside to force feed him cookies. Dean is suddenly handed a beverage and is stepping back to avoid a cookie shoved in his mouth. She won’t leave Dean alone -- and Dean thought Crowley was bad.

“Thanks, Rowena, but I’m good--” he backs away with one hand on his swollen belly and the other raised in retreat.

“Nonsense, dear! Try one of these rolls I made for you -- it’s laced with a special ingredient that’ll make your little darlings much less gassy after they’re born--” Rowena is shoving a plate at Dean, who had been politely declining any treat that Rowena had made herself fearing what “special” ingredients the tantalizing treats would be laced with.

“Mother, please, you’re bothering Dean,” Crowley appears by Dean’s side, pulling his mother away before the two start bickering and raising their voices. Dean eagerly makes his escape opting to look for Charlie again, and is ecstatic when he sees Castiel. The angel waves at Dean and motions to a saved chair. Dean smiles appreciatively, happy to sit down as his feet feel like pins and needles. He's coming into the conversation late but knowing instantly what it is about once he’s comfortably seated.

“ . . . Do we have any ideas who did it?” Charlie’s picking at a chocolate cupcake, eating the frosting slowly, savoring its sweetness as she listen’s to Castiel’s gravely voice.

“We thought Rowena at first -- Sam and I discussed it at length--” the angel says carefully.

“But we know she wouldn’t,” Dean insists, taking Charlie by surprise, getting frosting on her nose accidentally.

“Right . .” Castiel begins lightly -- he and Dean argued about this several weeks ago, but Dean said he trusts Crowley and that Crowley trusts Rowena. So the team had to bury their suspicions and leave it be.

Besides, Sam mentioned that he had never seen Dean happier -- and Castiel has to agree. Castiel knows first hand how excited Dean is to be a parent, though the hunter was never keen to show it in public. The angel is “tuned in” to Dean (for security, of course, Castiel is very protective of the one he raised from perdition) and several months ago the angel was pleasantly surprised that the young man had taken up singing to himself and his babies when he thought they were all alone. It’s a beautiful thing to witness, especially since Dean has been cranky, sick, and constantly complaining at how DONE he is with these goddamn kids. Castiel knows his true feelings, and now when he hears Dean hum softly or belt out loudly in the bunker, a warmth spreads inside of him, even in his angelic form, and Castiel himself can’t wait to see Dean in action as a parent.

Which is why when Dean says, drop it, Castiel does.

“Well we don’t know who else could have wanted this to happen -- it might be someone we’re overlooking.” Castiel scans the room as if he would see the person here, now, hovering somewhere in the shadows. Dean hums appreciatively thinking of their conversation before feeling a slight touch to his arm. He looks up and sees Crowley by his side smelling of whisky and cigars. Damn bastard broke his promise not to drink until after the kids were born! (To be fair he lasted a good few weeks. . . )

“Dean, darling, there are some demons I want you to meet! Come meet my first in command, my treasurer, and my tailor!” Crowley happily led Dean to a group of slick looking demons in suits near the door, talking to a pair of witches from the covenant.

“How many people are even here? Who the hell did you guys invite?” Dean asks Crowley, annoyed with having to move across the crowded room, weaving in and out in his condition with so many guests. Annoyed with Crowley enjoying a drink in his hand -- annoyed at having to breathe.

“Well, mother invited my closest demon companions, mostly my council and a few select elites, and then she invited her witch friends. I bet she loves shoving their noses in this . . . and I know Charlie had Castiel invite some friendlier angels for protection--” Crowley’s arm is around Dean, like he suddenly remembered that there was a strange person still out there -- still watching and waiting. It’s sweet and it makes Dean feel less irritable.

“Well let's meet your friends so I can sit down again -- your goddamn kids are heavy.” Dean says breathily, leaning on Crowley for support with a slight sweat to his brow. Crowley kisses him on the forehead before picking Dean up suddenly and carrying him like a newfound bride across the threshold.

 

The party is a hit. Everyone enjoyed themselves for several hours at the bunker with no fighting, no name calling (well some but mostly by Crowley) and most importantly there are no attempts at Dean’s life. Castiel, Sam, and Charlie are very happy that it's a big success and they breathe a little easier.

Dean thinks it felt a bit like a wedding reception as Sam even gives some sappy speech that makes Dean cry (though he denies it even as tears stream down his own handsome face -- “It's just hormones, don't argue with the pregnant man!”) and Crowley -- all choked up and high on love -- unabashedly kneels down in front of everyone, pulling from his jacket pocket a simple silver ring with a single diamond. It looked unmistakably like a wedding ring, and while Dean slipped it on his slender finger, with a wide grin on his face, Crowley shows him his hand that sports the same ring (but in gold of course). Dean didn’t even have to say yes because they already knew and the two hug tightly. The party breaks into a quick applause before Charlie and Rowena beckon for the games to start (“pin the binki on the baby" and charades).

Dean, hanging onto Crowley's arm and feeling affectionate, thinks he knows a better game and sneaks with Crowley upstairs to his room for a little bit of “fun” of their own. 

  
They sneak back to the party mostly unnoticed -- though when Sam sees his brother with that stupid grin on his face, the one where he’s proud of something he did -- something that's usually disgusting -- Sam rolls his eyes pointedly. Here? Now? With all these people in our home? _God_.

Crowley, feeling relaxed and more calm after his little rendezvous with Dean, finds his mother sitting alone and decides to keep her company. He's in such a good mood that he pulls his mother in tight for a quick hug.

“Mother," he begins softly, wanting to sound sincere, "I know you’ve been trying to get to know Dean more -- trying to help out in whatever way you know how,” Crowley thinks to the “gift” she gave Dean recently, a sweater made out of “special” wool that she said when worn will relieve the wearer of back pain. A very thoughtful gift but it made Dean break out in hives. It was at least better than the magical knock off “diaper genie” which, instead of disposing diapers easily in a special trash can, sounded like something was alive inside of it -- burping loudly after sucking the dirty diaper in. Crowley threw it to the hell hounds the second Rowena was out of sight. “I just wanted to say -- thank you. Thank you for making an effort . . .” He raises his glass to her and she blushes, slightly teary eyed.

“Oh my boy . . . You know I would do anything for you-- wouldn’t I love?” She hugs her son close again and he hums in response. “I’m just so happy you’re happy, dear. I know it didn’t start out as an ideal situation but I know that you two will be--" but before she can finish there’s a deafening crash from the kitchen and the party instantly goes still. Crowley scans the room quickly, not seeing Dean, and bile rises in his stomach. He runs to the kitchen where Castiel and the other angels are already there, examining the shattered glass window with no one else in sight.

Crowley panics, sweat glistening on his face. He doesn’t see Dean anywhere . . .

“Dean? DEAN?!” The demon bellows, his call echoing throughout the bunker. The low murmurs of the guests fill the room but there is no response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I've been gone for so long!! Depression and anxiety and unemployment are a bitch.
> 
> Luckily I'm employed and actively getting help. If you feel sad I explore you to get help too! You are loved and deserve to feel loved.
> 
> I'm hoping I can get back into the swing of things. I miss writing . . . It makes me really happy! Thanks to everyone who is still reading/never lost hope! :) I really want to finish any stories that are still left open because I have about a thousand other ideas!!
> 
> This story will have one more chapter but then I do already have a few chapters written for a sequel. :) I started with the sequel and went back to write this story to have it make more sense. Enjoy guys!


	6. Darkness Descends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets his secret assailant and things don't go as well as he hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split up the last chapter into two chapters because it was insanely long. I am posting the other part to this in a moment, so don't panic!
> 
> :) Enjoy guys!

Crowley panics, sweat dripping down his face while his eyes wildly scanning the room but there is no Dean.

The party is over in an instant and everyone does their part to search throughout the bunker. Castiel and his angels are suddenly gone, looking for any trace of Dean, but in a moment Castiel is back at Crowley’s side, the concern literally glowing in his eyes like a bright blue flame.

“Nothing?” Sam looks to Cas. He is calm and calculated like he’s on a hunt. Crowley appreciates it for a small moment because his head is spinning and he can’t think straight. His babies are gone -- his sweetie is gone . . .

“No, I can’t see him. I can’t feel him anywhere. I can’t understand how they did it. If it was a supernatural being they couldn’t just break into the bunker. There are wards against that here--”

“But what if it was someone who was already here? Someone we perhaps invited?” Rowena’s voice is quiet, appearing almost instantly next to Crowley. She had been apparently standing there for several moments, unnoticed in the confusion, it makes Crowley jump. Like Sam, she seems calm and calculated. She pats her son on the shoulder and takes his arm to comfort him. “Don’t you worry my sweet boy. We’ll find your Dean and our babies, I’ll be _sure_ of it.”

“How mother?! We _knew_ this would happen . . . There has to be a way to find him. Sam, I know of a tracking spell but I’ll need your blood. A lot of it. If you don’t mind sacrificing your hand--” Crowley’s voice is frantic, he sounds desperate. Sam holds out his hand without hesitation but Rowena gently pushes it down.

“There’s no need for that nonsense, dear. Luckily, you have a wonderful mother, a _thoughtful_  mother, and the most talented witch of the age!” Crowley, Castiel, and Sam stare dumbfounded at her. Castiel thinks their initial suspicions may be correct after all, that Rowena has something to do with this whole entanglement, but he says nothing and waits patiently. “I managed to put a wee tracking spell onto Dean when he ate that casserole I made him last week--” Crowley thinks to the food she’s talking about and he remembers that it made Dean throw up for a full day. They both swore they saw fire escape from when Dean let out a large, long burp.

Rowena pulls a scroll of parchment paper from her purse and what looks like a chicken bone. She lays the paper stretched out onto the floor below them and places the bone down carefully. Crowley grows in frustration when he realizes what spell she is using.

“A _curse_ , mother! You put a _curse_ on him -- that’s not a tracking spell!”  
Crowley knows what happens to the recipient if the spell if it is left cursed for more than a month. He remembers his mother trying this out on one of her lovers as a child and the aftermath was . . . messy.

“Alright, _Fergus_ , a curse if you’re gonna call it that -- but it’s effective. I had every intention of removing it once the children were born. Samuel, I will need a bit of your blood but just a prick.” She pierces his fingertip with her sharp, claw like nail, dripping just a drop of blood onto the parchment. With a few words under her breath, a mystical blue fire begins suddenly on the floor, engulfing the paper but not destroying it like it should. With a snap of her fingers the fire is gone and the paper has burn markings on it that looks unmistakably like a map. A large X stood near what looks like a body of water. “See how easy that was, dear?” She seems very proud of herself while the boys hurriedly read the map, still in crisis mode.

“It looks like he’s on the edge of a lake -- isn’t that--” Castiel begins but Rowena cuts him off, without ever glancing at the map herself.

“Yes! That’s the place where this all started. Let’s finish this once and for all, boys.” She’s already holding onto Castiel, waiting for the angel to teleport them all to the deserted cabin, where this whole mess began. Sam and Castiel exchange quick looks before the angel teleports them all in the blink of an eye.

******

Dean wakes up in a haze, feeling heavy and tied down. When he blinks away the confusion he quickly realizes that he is in fact tied down and his eyes are covered -- the room is not just dark.

“Awake now, dear? Oh that’s a good boy . . . “ The voice is smooth like honey. Dean recognizes it as he just spoke with this woman at the party. He remembers her blonde hair swaying while she laughed, offering him another drink. “How are you feeling, love? Oh I’ve been dying to meet you!” The smell of blood fills his nostrils, he’s laying in something warm and wet . . .

“Miranda? Where’s Rowena? Is this some kind of sick game?” He hears her laugh and she pulls off his blindfold. The room is dark but all for a few candles and the moonlight shining through the window. It takes him a moment to see that he’s laying in the middle of what looks like a sacrificial circle. Several human organs and entrails lay messily scattered on ancient symbols --- some small enough to be a child’s. Dean nearly vomits at the sight but keeps it together after taking a deep breath. “What are you doing?!” He growls and struggles but to no avail. He’s tied up good, even if he wasn’t about to pop from giving twins he wouldn’t be able to escape without help. The panic quickly rising, he can hear his own heart beat loud and fast in his ears. Crowley would find them . . . Crowley would find them . . . he just hoped it was in time.

“Oh sweetheart . . . Don’t you know how much of an admirer I am? I’ve heard all about the Winchesters through dear sweet Rowena. I know all about the amazing accomplishments you two have done! Bravo, really, dear!” She circles him with a crooked smile plastered her face, looking down at her handiwork of blood and entrails. Dean shivers when she reaches down to pull his t-shirt up to expose his gigantic belly. He wants to scream at her to leave them alone but decides against it. He wants to keep her talking . . . They would find him soon . . .

“Well I don’t know if you noticed but I’m currently unavailable. Maybe we can see about setting you up, I have a handsome brother you know --” she slaps him hard in the face and he falls silent at once.

“Be _quiet_ when adults are talking, dear.” She slices the top layer of Dean’s skin on his stomach, just enough to draw blood. He screams in pain and panic as she draws another ancient symbol that Dean does not recognize, with long claw like nails not unlike Rowena’s. “I’m also a fan of the King of Hell, you know. His mother and I are _quite_ close -- or at least she’s been begging me to rejoin the covenant. Poor old girl, she really will do _anything_ , even unknowingly hand over her family.” She admires her handiwork before walking over to her black bag by the window.

She begins to unabashedly undress in front of him, even though there is an antique room divider in the corner, where she could have had privacy if she so pleased. She changed into a dark velvet robe, speckled in blood that she no doubt wore when killing her victims whose insides lay strewn about the floor. Her body is covered in tattoos that look like the ruins she drew below him, along with scars that no mere human could bear as they seemed to dance and glow when she breathed.

“I _told_ her . . . I told her sweetly that her son needed to marry a human. We could be the most powerful covenant in all the ages, my boy, but we need more than just a group of whiny whimpy witches! We needed protection . . . from people like you.” She stretches her long arms up, her blonde hair wistfully falling to the side as she lets out a big yawn, like she’s gearing herself up to head into work. Like she’s preparing herself for her day, her task at hand.

“We need ancient magic . . . We need your babies, my boy!” She smiles at him sweetly and pulls a silver blade from her black bag, not unlike the blade the boys used to try and kill the banshee with months ago. What seems like a lifetime ago, Dean thinks, still struggling against his bonds. He feels the babies kicking, like they are trying to escape too and his chest hurts suddenly like he could cry.  
  
“Rowena _wouldn’t_ listen . . . she wouldn’t let me help. So I took matters into my _own_ hands. It was really _easy_ you know -- she actually helped me do it without even knowing! Do you know that demons will go absolutely crazy when they smell my perfume made of nightshade, mixed of course, with a ground up child’s heart? They are so easy to manipulate after that. A quick spell here, a threat of a banshee to get you boys out in the middle of nowhere . . .” She smiles again, laughing to herself as she takes a jar of silver liquid and dips the blade into it. It glows poison green when she holds it up in the moonlight.

“And a human sacrifice or two,  _of course_ . . . The family in the nearby farm had the most loveliest child to offer me, after I _butchered_  the farmer and his wife that is. It couldn’t have been more perfect.” Dean, with his newfound feelings of maternal instincts, feels like he could vomit from the thought of Miranda killing a child for this, and his fear rises.

“And poor, _old,_ Rowena . . . the one who started it all! The smell is nothing to humans or witches, she didn’t even notice that I used it on her to pass onto her son! Not a very good witch, but a fine girl to help carry out my plans. Crowley never stood a chance -- he couldn’t fight it. I’ve perfected that spell over the years. He tried to fight it, harder than I thought he would mind you! Rowena told me how much it pained him that you two weren’t an item. For a moment I thought he would overcome the spell before it was over, but just he pushed you down again and took you until he spilled every last drop of his seed inside of you. You both never stood a chance.”

She begins lighting candles, and humming a children’s lullaby to herself. Dean thinks it sounds like London Bridge and thinks back to his days reading bedtime stories to Sammy. He looks out the window and realizes for the first time that he must be at the cabin where this all started . . . The view of the lake would be beautiful if he weren’t about to be brutally murdered, and his children taken violently from his womb.

“My plan has gone _perfectly_ since day one,” Miranda continues, talking nonchalantly like they were discussing the weather. “The exception, of course, being that Rowena did not agree to use any means necessary for our cause. Pity, as it would have been nice to have one of the oldest witches in the covanent again, but I’ll just have to kill her too.” If she was going for remorseful she failed miserably. Somehow, Dean thinks, this was also according to her masterful plan.

“The other witches . . . They can’t know what I did. They wouldn't approve . . _yet_. They don’t see the great vision that I do for us! The next age of Witches is here, with the two most powerful cambions this world has ever seen at our side. It’ll be easy to blame Rowena for this mess. I’ve already planted the seeds into their minds. Even your angel friend and brother think it! Rowena is reckless and dangerous-- this isn’t a jump in her erratic behavior. She’s shown to us time and time again that she can’t be trusted.” She walks over to Dean and places a gloved hand on his handsome face, wiping the sweat dripping down from fear. Dean realizes he’s trembling. He isn’t sure when the tears started streaming down.

“Listen lady,” He tries to sound confident despite his body betraying him, “I bet you’re feeling great about getting the King of Hell to impregnate a Winchester. _Bravo, really, well done,_ you royally made an ass out of all of us,” Dean mocks her easily, the anger and fear really getting to him and making his voice higher than normal. “But what the _fuck_ do you think you’re going to accomplish once my friends come and kill you to save me?”

“Oh love, why would they search here? Even if they do, I have wards against them in place -- remember that wall outside the cabin when Crowley _screwed_ you mercilessly? Your brother and that poor angel could do nothing but listen and wait. I thoroughly enjoyed the show myself.” She playfully touches Dean’s exposed stomach, enjoying how he jumps and shivers.

“No one can penetrate that wall, love, without the proper spell that is, and _I_ made the spell. Even if they do find us here, there is nothing that they can do but sit outside and listen to your screams.” Dean shivers again at the touch of the silver blade to his stomach. _Guys, get here soon . . . Prove this bitch wrong . . ._ Dean hopelessly struggles and Miranda presses a hand on his stomach to still him.

“Why me?” Dean croaks out, desperate to keep her talking, to keep that blade away from his body. “Why me and Crowley? It could have been anyone and we would not have even known until it was too late.”

“It is already too late, and you both still didn’t know!” She laughs loudly, her shrieks filling up the empty house. Dean suddenly realizes that she’s batshit crazy. How did Rowena not see this? How did they play right into this bitch’s hands?

He also realizes that no one is coming. He can’t help but cry harder, knowing he’ll never see his family again . . . He’ll never know his children . . .

“It was a game, _really --_ quite _fun_ , actually -- to see how far I could go  . . . how many _powerful_ people I could push . . . but I do honestly believe that your babies will be the most powerful Cambodians of all time. Really -- the power of the King of Hell, that’s not something to shy away from, dear, and with a Winchester? It’s too bad you don’t have a sister or it would have been a bit easier, but you did fine -- _great_ even.” She cuts his shirt open further, and pulls his pants down a bit. His whole big belly is exposed now, like she’s ready to cut the whole damn thing off.

“And you’re having twins! Even better -- that honestly came as a surprise to me! A _happy_ surprise, mind you. It also means you would be quite a bit easier to catch, since you're so tubby now.” She grabs onto his tummy and shakes it, as if she’s a loving aunt making fun of her pregnant niece. Even with the threat of dying, of this bitch stealing his children, that makes Dean feel like shit.

“Miranda, it’s not too late to change your mind! We wouldn’t mind a godmother--” she slaps him harshly again, his body actually turns to the side with the force and he almost falls over from his awkwardly bound position. She sliced his face open with that slap, her claw like nails digging into his skin easily.

“Now stay calm, dear. In my day we would drug up the mother so that she wouldn’t remember the pain she went through. I think you should be awake for this, since you won’t have any time afterwards to spend with your children.” Dean lets out a panicked  
“NO!” when she forces the tip of her blade into his stomach. It slices easily like butter, and she rips him open, laughing wildly beside him while he shrieks in pain. Everything goes dark.


	7. A Love Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The resolution to the love story of Dean and Crowley as parents.

The group appears just outside, Crowley slightly out of breath even though he hadn’t been running. He runs toward the house before Castiel can tell him to stop, and he hits an invisible wall hard in the face, stumbling backwards. Rowena helps him up, fussing like a mother would a small child.

“That same force field is there.” The angel prods it gently with his finger and electricity sparks. They all hear a scream -- Dean yelling NO to his assailant. Sam panics and frantically looks for a weak spot in the field, looking like he’s just learned how to mime.

“Now now, dears. Remember who you’re with.” Rowena takes a small thimble from her purse and places it gingerly on her fingertip. She touches the forcefield delicately and like glass shattering, they see shards that spark and fly to the ground.

“How did you--” The men are dumbfounded again for a moment, watching Rowena run past them toward the house.

“ _Never_ underestimate the power of a witch from the original conven, boys! You know, before it was cool. Right this way, watch your step, sweetie . . .” The men don’t ask any more questions and follow her quickly into the cabin.

It’s dark on the bottom floor and there is no sight of Dean. The main source of light comes from outside where the giant hole in the wall is still in place from when they fought the banshee. They hear Dean scream from upstairs and rush to the source before Rowena can call out to them and wait. “ _No, boys! It’s a trap!_ ” Sam hears her distantly and stays back, just outside the door, the blood rushing to his brain from panic. He'll wait for the right moment . . . 

Crowley enters in first and is greeted by the horrific sight of Dean, stomach sliced open, blood pooling at his sides, looking as if he could die at any moment. Crowley and Castiel rush to him, Crowley holding up his head and trying to get him to stay awake while Castiel heals him. As soon as Castiel closes the wound, it slowly starts to reopen, blood squirting out all over again like it’s new and fresh. Castiel tries over and over again but it is no use.

“He’s losing too much blood, he can’t survive much more of this--” A bloody hand stills Crowley as it caresses his face, Dean can’t talk above a whisper.

“The kids . . . She has the kids . . .” His voice is so weak it makes Crowley want to cry, until he realizes he already is, that the tears are flowing steadily down his face.

“Where baby? Where’s the evil bitch--” The lights to the room suddenly snap on and they see the shadow of a woman’s figure behind the antique room divider. Castiel’s eyes glow and with a swift jolt of his hand, the divider flies across the room, hitting several candles to the ground. Miranda looks unnerved, holding the children in her arms, who squirm slightly but remain eerily silent for newborns. She is bathed in Dean’s blood.

“Now now, Castiel . . . Look what you’ve done? You’re going to set fire to the whole _damn_ cabin.” She doesn’t seem concerned that the boys had forced their way past her defenses. Castiel takes a step but before he has time to react, before he can reach Miranda and the children, the candles which he himself had knocked over had fallen onto the sacrificial circle -- trapping him in a ring of holy fire. Crowley gingerly sets Dean down, and rushes toward his babies, but when he is unable to, he looks up and realizes there is a demon trap laid above them. She had planned this . . . Down to the last minute . . .

Miranda sets the children down onto a black velvet pillow she had laid in the corner of the room. The children are silent still, and when she lays them side by side, they seem to grasp one another like they are comforting each other. Dean reaches out, he calls to him. In his hazy state he thinks he sees them look his way.

She laughs manically, happy tears streaming down her pretty face. “I can’t believe it was that easy . . . I can’t _believe_ you all are so easily fooled! You saved the world how many times? _Amazing_!” She walks over to the circle, closer to the door, when Sam rushes in at that moment trying to seize her. She seemed to be anticipating this, and with a quick flick of her wrist, he falls over coughing up blood. He’s hit the floor before Dean even realizes his brother is there too. “Thank you for joining the party, Sam. It was so good of you to dance with me at the bunker.” She walks over to his twitching body and pulls out a witch’s bag from his pocket. She ties him up quickly, and pats his head like he’s a child deserving of a reward.

“They did save the world, but not without help, _dear_ ,” Rowena slowly walks into the room, her eyes darting back as if to look for any more traps laid about. “You stupid boys, I told you to wait . . .” She tsked at them like a mother does, and slowly makes her way toward Miranda. “Now Miranda, _love_ , I think it’s time you hand over the children. Their grandmother is very anxious to meet them.” Rowena’s voice is strong and confident. Miranda chuckles meanly.

“Dear, _sweet_ , Rowena. Why on earth do you think that I would give up the children now? When I have you all exactly where I want you?” With a quick snap of her fingers, Rowena is unable to move below the waist. Another trap -- they are all trapped now. Miranda laughs wildly, but stops abruptly when she hears Rowena join in. She steps closer to Rowena, pulling the silver blade that she sliced Dean open with out of her robe’s pocket. Rowena seems unperturbed.

“Oh Miranda . . . Poor _stupid_ Miranda . . . My dear sweet sister of the coven . . . Do you really think it would be this easy? I must admit, I thought you would at least wait until after the party was over but you’ve had your fun now, dear, it’s time for this to be over.” If Rowena was bluffing, she sure had a good poker face. Miranda walks over to Rowena, so close that they could kiss. She takes her blade and lightly slices Rowena’s cheek so that blood flows down easily. Rowena barely flinches.

“And what are you -- _you stupid Irish bitch --_  what are you going to do about it?” Miranda darts her tongue out of her lips playfully, a look of exileration on her face.

“Nothing, dear. You have us all in a pickle, I’ll admit that. _I_ can’t do anything trapped in this binding spell.” Rowena laughs like she said something funny, and Miranda suddenly looks very nervous.

“Then have you gone mad? What is so funny?” Miranda scans the room as if she’s waiting for someone to pop out from the shadows.

“Because dear, if you thought for a moment that my granbabies would just . . . let you _kill_ off their family . . . You’re very mistaken, love, _delusional_ really.” Rowena looks over to the children laying on the pillow, intertwined unnaturally for two newborn twins. Miranda looks shocked for a split second before bursting out into mean laughter again.

“The children? You’re relying on the _children_ to save you? Oh Rowena, I didn’t think you could be so stupid! They _can't_ understand you, dear! And once I’m finished with those _brats_ , they will do nothing but listen to me! They will never even wonder what happened to their stupid, _dirty_ little grandmother and parents! I _will_ be their mother, the coven _will_ be their family. I will be the supreme ruler -- _no one_ can stop me!” She laughs and stabs Rowena in the stomach, taking the redhead by surprise as she doubles over in pain.

Crowley calls out to his mother, and Dean watches nearly motionless as Castiel holds him close, healing him over and over again while the wound continues to break open.

Rowena coughs up blood, then begins to softly yet shakily sing a song that Dean knows he's heard her sing before, almost every time she came to visit in fact. Crowley remembers it as the lullaby she sang to him to help him sleep as a child . . .

Miranda hears a crack of electricity from behind and looks toward the children. The newborns have raised their arms up in the air, which might have looked like just regular baby reflexes, normal stretching for human infants, but the feeling in the room shifts -- there’s a sort of electricity, of force, resonating from the two. When they bring down their fists together, Miranda screams in pain, high pitched and horrific, and she is suddenly shredded into tiny bits, scattering all over the room. The whole ordeal is over in an instant with her blood and flesh everywhere, like she exploded from the inside out, like something ripped her apart, shredding her like she was made of paper.

The holy fire is suddenly put out, and the ceiling cracks to break the demon’s trap. Rowena coughs up more blood, but stumbles determinedly toward the children while the men stare amazed. She picks up her grandchildren and kisses their foreheads, and suddenly she and the children are clean and healed, looking as if they came fresh from a shower. Sam starts to stir. He wakes up to see the aftermath of what happened and is instantly relieved when he sees everyone alive, Miranda nowhere in sight, wiping the blood that has splattered on him in disgust. He stumbles over to Dean, and holds his brother’s hand to let him know he’s here. Dean squeezes back with the little energy he has left, his eyes are fixated on his children in Rowena's arms.

Rowena, after getting her fill of kisses, walks over to Crowley and Dean, places a child in each’s arms, and sighs deeply. “That’s much better. Dean, how are you feeling?”

Dean suddenly feels much better, holding his child tightly in his arms, and when he looks down he sees that his wounds have been healed. He looks into his son’s eyes, looking up at his father with fierce determination, like he’s trying to tell him, “you’re welcome, dad.” Dean realizes he’s crying still, and looks up to Crowley who is as shocked as he is.

“I feel fine . . . How did-- did you know this would happen? Did you plan this all along?” Dean looks to Rowena suddenly very angry. If she knew . . . If she planned this . . . Her smile gave away her answer.

“Oh my sweet boy . . . Do you honestly think I would let Miranda do this? Do you honestly think I would endanger all of our lives just to what -- get a happy ending? Two beautiful babies for my son with the man he truly loves? _Really_ now, what kind of woman do you think I am?” She coos at the baby girl in her son’s arms, who is grabbing at her dad’s beard and laughing.

“You’re a crazy _bitch_ , that’s the type of woman you are,” Crowley spits out, but when his daughter coos loudly, seemingly to agree with her father’s statement, he looks down at her beautiful green eyes like Dean’s, and cries openly. He kneels down to where Dean is sitting, still mostly in shock, with their son in his arms. The two kiss fervently, the stress of the situation finally getting to them, the tears flow and they hug each other tightly, sighing in relief at their newfound safety. Sam can’t get but get emotional with them, and kneels down to meet his new nephew and niece. It’s a beautiful moment, with the exception of the horrific bloody state of the room.

“Yes, love, that may be true, but I told you that I would do anything for you . . . I wasn’t lying, was I sweetie? I would do _anything_ to get you a family . . . _Anything_ for my boy . . .” She joins them in their happy tears, and Castiel steps back a moment, letting the family have their time. What a messed up, sadistic family it was, but a family it still is.

*****

Dean and Crowley sit on the couch in the bunker, each with a child in their arms drinking milk out of a bottle. It’s been two weeks since the ordeal and they’ve taken extra time to relax and feel safe. They haven’t left the bunker once in that two weeks, relying on Sam to get their groceries or Castiel to run out to get diapers. Dean feels incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful brother and best friend -- they give Crowley and him time, space, and love. It feels like they've been on a nice stay-at-home vacation.

It’s been two weeks, however, with no name for the babies . . .

“I think the boy should be named John, after my dad . . .” Dean says softly and suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence between them while they lay sleepily on the couch. Crowley looks at the stern face of his son in his arms. So serious, Crowley thinks.

“Anything you want, darling.” Crowley says sleepily. He could die happy right here and right now, his happy little family finally safe and sound. “I was going to ask to name the girl after my mother, however in light of recent events, I can’t stand the thought.” Crowley didn’t speak to his mother for days after the birth of his children. He couldn’t stay mad, however, after her constant meddling in his life, he finally has everything he’s ever wanted. Though it came at a price . . . He thinks about Dean, laying splayed open on the floor of that cold dark cabin, and he can’t help the feeling of despair that rises in his stomach.

“How about, Samantha? After their uncle?” Dean laughs at the idea for a second, but his baby girl coos happily in his arms. She seems to like it too.

“I’m sure big Samantha will be pleased.” Crowley leans over and kisses Dean sweetly, and Dean lets him. The babies cry instantly, like someone came and pinched their little cheeks.

“Oh _be quiet_ you two! After all we’ve been through you should be glad to see your dads happy . . .” Dean laughs warmly when all of the sudden John burps loudly, making baby Samantha join in on the laughter too. Sam watches, just outside the door to the living room, feeling overjoyed that they named one of the children after him. He doesn’t interrupt their moment, however, and shuts the door to the living room. He nods to Rowena to let her guests in, but stands in front of the door to ensure their privacy, ensure their protection. Castiel is not far, he knows, and the thought of his family protected comforts the younger Winchester. He too needs time to heal, he has been so nervous that someone will snatch the children in the night that he didn’t sleep well for the first week of their return. He finally is coming to himself again, but that doesn’t mean he will let Dean and the kids out of his sight for long.

“Oh girls! So good to see you. Do come in, do come in!” Rowena leads the group of witches to the study for tea. Some of the girls’ eyes linger toward the door Sam stands guarding, looking for any trace of the powerful creatures newly born to this world.

After several pleasantries, and after some of the witches gave presents for the babies and the happy couple, the women drink their tea and talk happily. Rowena explains the last few weeks of Miranda’s life, carefully leaving out the details that she knew what was happening almost every step of the way. The witches listen with quiet respect, and waited for the moment that they knew would come.

“Now that your head witch is dead,” several witches exchange nervous glances, “I believe you’ll need a new leader.” Rowena’s voice is like honey, she sounds more confident than she has in years. “Someone with -- _oh I dunno_ \-- with a son who’s the demon King, married to one of the Winchesters, with the two most _powerful_ cambions ever created at her side.” She smiles kindly as the witches look increasingly uncomfortable. They didn’t need the reminder to know how powerful Rowena was, how powerful her family had suddenly become with the birth of her grandchildren.

“Well -- obviously, Rowena -- _Ms. McLeod_ ,” one of the girl trembles quietly, “we look to you for leadership -- you have the most . . . experience, here.” Rowena acts mock surprised, smiling and making a fuss like she hadn’t been expecting them to ask. The witches look relieved as if they would burst into flames if Rowena frowned, and wait nervously for her response.

“Yes, dears . . . I do believe you’re right. I do have the most experience here . . . and don’t you forget it!” She wags her finger playfully at a nearby witch, who looks so alarmed that she stays completely still, not even daring to breathe. “And let me remind you all . . . there shall be no one here who follows in Miranda’s footsteps . . . Poor dear got a bit more than she expected.” Rowena sips her tea, remembering fondly the scream escaping from Miranda’s lips as she was suddenly ripped from the inside out. “My granbabies will take care of their family. I always knew they would.” The witches laugh nervously, and agree.

There’s suddenly a loud bang from the living room. Dean yells, and Rowena hears Sam calling out, “ _What happened?!_ ” The witches are there in an instant, pushing past Castiel who is standing at the doorway stunned, looking at the living room that’s turned black with soot and smoking like they just put out a fire. Dean and Crowley’s clothes are singed, and most of the furniture looks destroyed.

“Nothing, Samantha apparently burped fire. It’s fine, we’re fine,” Crowley says calmly before busting out laughing. Dean can’t help but join in, the babies cooing happily, while Sam runs upstairs to grab towels, a fire extinguisher, and a change of clothes for everyone.

“What a happy family you have, Rowena,” one of the witches says nervously, yet truthfully. Rowena nods her head, sighing happily.

“Yes, dear, a happy family indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I hope you all enjoyed the story! Sorry it took me so long to do!
> 
> I do have plans for a sequel, which is funny because I actually started writing the sequel first before I realized I wanted to make the backstory. So hopefully at some point I'll post the sequel, but you never know. I'll probably get distracted and go on to a different project.
> 
> Either way, I want to say thank you to those who stuck through this and I hope it's everything you guys were hoping for! I can't wait to finally finish Hell Inc sometime soon! That's been in the back of my mind for ages and it's driving me crazy. That's my next goal, to finish the longest story I ever started. :) Thank you again for reading!! Comments are always appreciated!!


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